


Clara's Spin Doctor

by ImpossibleDoctor



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relationship(s), Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpossibleDoctor/pseuds/ImpossibleDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam resigns as Malcolm's PA, she's already found a replacement. When she brings her in for training, Malcolm finds himself in two minds about the tiny girl who's suddenly invaded his office and his life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this is my first fic, so please don't kill me if it's awful! It may not be the best written fic ever, as I haven't written a story in years! Any comments and/or suggestions would be hugely welcome! I hope you enjoy it!

Malcolm heard a knock on the door and glanced at the clock on the wall: 8:43am. Fucking hell. Whoever was there had better have brought coffee or they would be out of the door before they were even through it.   
“Good morning Malcolm” came cheerfully through the door. It was Sam; who else could be that lively at this time of morning.  
“Malcolm, I’ve come to tell you I’m resigning after next week. I’m moving up to Manchester to look after my Father.” Sam said, carefully handing Malcolm his coffee. Malcolm took a large mouthful of it, not caring about the bitterness or the temperature. Ah, that was better. Now he was more awake.  
“Sorry Sam, I was away with the fucking fairies, can you say that again?” Malcolm said, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts.  
“I’m resigning, Malcolm. Next week.” Fuck. Fuckety fuck. All the other PAs in this place were absolutely shite compared to Sam.  
“Don’t worry, I’ve already found a replacement. She should be arriving at 9 o’clock for an introduction and to then she’ll be shadowing me for the rest of the week. Sound ok?”  
“Just tell me it’s not fucking Nicola Murray’s old secretary. What was her name? Helen? Just tell me it’s not her.” Malcolm said grumpily, before taking another gulp of coffee.  
“No it’s not her; Don’t worry, she’s completely new to politics. Used to be an English teacher at Coal Hill I think. Her CV was very impressive and she seems like a smart girl. She’ll be up to the job I think.” Sam said dismissively before turning and leaving the room.   
Malcolm looked at the clock again. 8:52am. 8 minutes until this fucking new girl shows up. Fucking brilliant. Sam was by far the best PA in Downing Street, the last thing he needs right now is for some new girl to arrive and fuck everything up. Sam said she was new to politics? How did she expect her to be able to keep up with the never-ending shitstorm at Downing Street having only ever controlled a class of hormonal teenagers? Although thinking about it, Downing Street didn’t seem much different – rooms full of slimy, sweaty cocksucking Oxbridge twats trying to cosy up to the next ‘big’ politician, hoping to secure their safety in whatever election was coming next. Fuck, the only reason Sam isn’t being constantly harassed by the throngs of twats here is because she’s Malcolm Tucker’s PA. No one messes with Malcolm Tucker if they want to stay in politics. Maybe if he scares them enough, there won’t be any problems with the new girl either; the cocksuckers will leave her alone and she can get on with learning the ropes without distractions. 

8:56am. Well, better get it over with. Malcolm opened his laptop, sipping his coffee while the screen loaded, before opening up his emails. Fucking great. Not even 9am on a Monday morning and already the emails were piling up, asking for help, interviews, policy release dates; the lot. Slamming his empty coffee cup down on a pile of the weekend’s newspapers, he began typing furiously, his eyebrows pulling together as he read some of the shite that these idiots had emailed him. A policy on traffic wardens giving warnings instead of fines? What was the fucking point in that – the county councils needed to get some extra money somehow, seeing how quickly the cocksuckers seemed to hoover it up in ‘expenses’. And what was this? Another politician caught with his pants around his ankles. What a fucking surprise. He was tempted to leave it, to let the idiot who got caught have to deal with it himself, but unfortunately that would raise questions. As infuriating as it is most of the time, Malcolm did like his job. He liked being paid to bollock people and he felt a sense of power, being able to stop the media printing troublesome stories… Well, most of the time. 

9:01am. Malcolm almost missed the knock on the door, and didn’t look up as he shouted  
“Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off”, still typing furiously, his eyebrows practically knitted together in a look of frustration. The door opened and Sam walked in, replacing Malcolm’s cup of coffee with a sweeter, lighter coffee – he was awake now, he didn’t need the taste of bitter, black shitty coffee all day.   
“Malcolm, this is your new PA, provided she survives the week.” Sam said lightly, gesturing for the new girl to follow her into the large office.  
“Great, well leave her here for today Sam. She can watch me try to clear up this shitstorm. Come back later to check she’s still fucking breathing. She can shadow you for the rest of the week.” Malcolm said, still not looking up from his laptop screen.   
He could hear Sam talking quietly to the new girl, probably explaining the days plans beyond sitting in his office for fuck-knows how long, learning how to avert regular shitstorms without causing the fucking Apocalypse.   
“Well Malcolm, you have a meeting with Nicola Murray at 10 so I’ll bring along the itinerary in about half an hour. Will that give you long enough to show Clara some of the ropes?”  
“Yes, yes, as long as it’s not about the fucking parking wardens” Malcolm said distractedly, his mind still fully focussed on stopping the headline ‘PANTS DOWN POLITICIANS’ ever reaching a reporter.   
Sam left the room, telling the new girl to sit on the sofa by the wall and wait for Malcolm to finish his email.   
“I’ll be back soon, check you still have a heartbeat” Sam joked as she left, and Malcolm heard the new girl laugh nervously. Good. She should be fucking nervous. She’s in fucking Downing Street, in the office of Malcolm fucking Tucker, the nightmare of all politicians, old and new, young and old. Even the Prime Minister himself relies on Malcolm to keep his reputation as shiny and clean as a politician’s can be. Malcolm turned his full attention to the email in front of him, blocking out the girl sat in the corner. He wouldn’t even look at her until he was finished sorting this shitstorm. Oh what a fucking fantastic start to the week.

9:14am. Shitstorm averted for now. Leave it to fucking Ben Swaine to be caught pants down in the toilets of a shifty pub in fucking Cornwall. Fucking photos were taken of him in the disabled toilets with some woman who wasn't his fucking wife, and uploaded to Twitter within minutes. Fucking great. Sometimes Malcolm wished technology had never been invented, just to make his nightmare of a job slightly easier. But then, how would he bollock people who weren't close at hand? No, technology was good.  
“Give me a couple of minutes, love, and I’ll be right with you” he said gruffly, still not looking up from the screen, putting off the inevitable disappointment of meeting Sam’s replacement.  
Suddenly, the girl’s phone rang, and she jumped up off the sofa  
“I'm so sorry, but I have to take this. I’ll be back in a minute.” She said quickly, and Malcolm turned in his chair just in time to see the door shutting behind her. What the fuck was that all about? And why did she answer it? It was her first day in her new job, and he couldn't have someone so easily distracted as his PA. Well, she’d have to go. He stood up, meaning to go to Sam and tell her that this girl would not do, but as he rounded his desk, there was a knock on the door, and the girl opened the door nervously.  
“I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to run off like that. It’s just that my grandmother had a fall last night and I'm still waiting to hear from the hospital.” She said quietly, nervously, like she expected Malcolm to explode and fire her before she had even started. She studied her shoes as she waited for Malcolm’s reply, missing the look on Malcolm’s face as he looked at her.  
Fuck. Fuckety fuck. Malcolm was speechless. He didn't know what he was expecting in his new PA, but it wasn't this. She was fucking gorgeous. He could see her downcast eyes and the way her nose pointed upwards a tiny bit, giving her an adorable look. He looked her up and down while he had the chance, taking in her hair covering her face as she looked down, her clothes – black suit trousers and jacket, with a white shirt and loose black tie that was not nearly tight enough around her neck to be considered professional – and her height; Christ, she was fucking tiny, practically a fucking fairy. She barely came past his shoulder, though she would be the perfect height to rest his head on top of hers… Malcolm shook himself, Christ he did not need this. No workplace romances, he reminded himself; didn't want to get himself into that pile of shit. Although, by workplace, he had meant other politicians... Surely it didn't extend to general staff… No. He wouldn't let himself even think about that. Suddenly, he realised that she was looking at him very strangely.  
“What? Sorry; away with the fucking fairies again for a second there” he said gruffly, forcing himself to look at her face only.  
“Are you ok, Sir? You looked a bit gone for a minute there…” the girl said, looking up at him with huge eyes full of worry.  
“I’m fine, you fucking fairy, and don’t call me Sir, I’m not your fucking teacher.” Malcolm snapped, retreating back to his desk, sitting down heavily in his chair, ruffling his hair with his hands and looking at his laptop screen again, trying to regain his composure. He couldn’t let her affect him like this; he had a fucking job to do.  
The girl looked on as he moved his chair back, rubbing his hands over his face and sighing heavily, seemingly forgetting that she was in the room, or maybe just ignoring her. She coughed quietly and he whipped his head up, turning to look at her.  
“Well? Go get us some fucking coffee then get ready to learn some of this shit!”  
The girl turned and practically fled the room, leaving Malcolm trying to get himself under control before she returned. Fucking wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to say, if you recognise anything, it's not mine! If you see any mistakes, let me know! Enjoy!

Clara walked hurriedly through the building, head down, avoiding all contact until she reached Sam’s desk. She slammed her hands down onto the desk, making Sam jump and look up at Clara in surprise  
“Sam, I know you thought this was a good idea, but he hates me already. I can’t replace you! No one can replace you – you know that. You’re the only person he treats with any sort of decency and he’s not going to accept me instead of you. This was a bad idea. I can’t do this.” Clara said urgently, in a hushed tone. Sam looked up at her, eyebrow raised.   
“Clara, you know that’s rubbish. He knew I wasn’t going to be here forever and he knows that anyone I choose to take over have got to be pretty competent” Sam said, ignoring the disdainful look Clara gave her at this comment “Besides, I know how you feel about older men. Who knows what might happen?” she said, grinning gleefully when Clara flushed bright red, whipping her head around to check nobody had overheard them.  
“Shut up! I don’t even know Malcolm and from what I’ve heard, he’s a miserable old bugger. Hell, from what I’ve seen he’s a miserable old bugger. Probably gets off on shouting at people. Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m going to get involved with somebody I work with. Absolutely no way.” Clara said defensively. But Sam would not stop smirking like a cat who got the cream, and Clara huffed loudly, turning and flouncing out of the door. 30 seconds later, she pushed the door open again, standing with her eyes narrowed, looking at Sam, daring her to comment.  
“How does he take his fucking coffee?” Clara said through gritted teeth. Sam cackled gleefully, saying  
“Oh Clara, you have to make sure you please him don’t you?”   
“Oh for fucks sake Sam, just tell me how he takes his coffee.” Clara said angrily, her cheeks flushed from Sam’s comments.

9:27am. Clara got to Malcolm’s office and, realising both of her hands were full, she opened the door with her hip. As she entered the room, Malcolm looked up from his desk to see her entering the room arse first. Well there went any composure he had regained while she was out of the room. She turned round and Malcolm inhaled sharply, seeing her face properly for the first time. Fuck. Still as fucking gorgeous as before, if not more so, now he could see her whole gorgeous face. She was like a fucking nymph or a fairy. He stood up and walked around the desk, taking a cup from Clara, his hand brushing over hers momentarily. He glanced down at their hands and noticed her other hand shake slightly for a moment before she steadied herself again. Fucking wonderful. She was either scared of him or repulsed by the contact with an old man like him. Turning his eyes to her face again, she saw her also looking at his hand, now further away but still close to hers. He could see her sharp but silent intake of breath as she pulled her hand away slowly. He was still stood too close to her, he knew, with only a few inches separating them, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to step back first. He was challenging her, he told himself unconvincingly, testing her nerves in a new situation. 

She looked up at him, her eyes looking straight into his, and then it was his turn to breathe deeply as he saw how open her eyes were, like entire galaxies were hiding behind them, the stars shining up at him through her eyes. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but suddenly they were drawn from the moment by Sam, who opened the door loudly, talking already as she walked into Malcolm’s office, holding a pile of papers which she dropped very loudly onto Malcolm’s desk. Clara stepped back from him hurriedly and Malcolm jumped slightly, spilling hot coffee onto his hand.  
“Fuck! That’s fucking hot” he shouted, slamming the cup down onto his desk, shaking the hot coffee off his hand. Clara gasped and looked up at him  
“I’m so sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to spill your coffee” she said anxiously, and Malcolm could see the genuine worry in her eyes as she looked up at him in apology.  
“It wasn’t you, you fucking fairy, it was Sam, barging through the fucking door like that!” Malcolm said accusingly, turning to glare at Sam. Clara also glared at Sam over Malcolm’s shoulder. She had known exactly what was happening in the office at that point and had interrupted on purpose. Clara glanced back at Malcolm, taking a moment to appreciate his features; striking, icy blue eyes which were, thankfully, busy glaring at Sam, as well as his greying, silvery hair, which Clara loved already. It was cut short, but had small curls, and she knew if he grew it out a bit, his hair would be perfect to run her hands through. All of a sudden, she realised what she was thinking, and visibly shook herself. No. Absolutely not. Not after last time. She would never repeat that mistake. 

“Well Malcolm, it must be your lucky day – your meeting with Nicola has been brought forward half an hour, so you’re expected over at DoSAC in about 15 minutes. Here’s the papers, I’ve got you a car waiting outside.” Sam said quickly, ignoring the death glare Malcolm was giving her. She picked up the stack of papers from the desk again and walked to the corner of the room, taking Malcolm’s coat from its stand and throwing it to him. She took Clara’s coffee from her hands and thrust the stack of papers towards her instead.  
“Here you are, Clara. Get your coat, you’re going to take notes from this meeting instead of me. You’ll be fine” she said, seeing the panicked look on Clara’s face. She turned, checking that Malcolm was busy putting on his coat and scarf, collecting some files from his desk, before turning back to Clara  
“Clara, love, you’ll be fine honestly! Just take notes on the meeting – it’s not a hugely important meeting anyway so it doesn’t really matter. Don’t write anything that could be read as being offensive – we’ve had some major fuck ups in the past few months over badly recorded meetings.” Sam whispered to Clara reassuringly, who was still glaring at her “besides, you’ll also get to sit up close with Malcolm in the car there and back” she said, winking at Clara, who blushed red again, rolling her eyes.  
“Stop trying to set me up with him, Sam, it’s never going to happen. No more workplace romance, you know that!” Clara said angrily, narrowing her eyes at Sam, who held up her hands in mock surrender. Malcolm interrupted them then, saying  
“Hurry the fuck up – we have to be there in 5 minutes, and in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of fucking London during the Monday morning rush hour. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier Sam?” he said in an annoyed voice. He could be late if he wanted to be, he was Malcolm Tucker, they’d have to wait for him, but he’d overheard Clara’s last comment to Sam. Of course it wasn’t fucking possible, what was he expecting? A quick fuck in the office? Of course not, she was bloody repulsed by him, the bitter old man of Downing Street. He shouldn’t have expected anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying it! Let me know!

Clara hurried down the stairs after Malcolm, whose long legs could move a lot faster than hers could. Typically the lift was broken, and she cursed softly to herself as she nearly tripped at the bottom of the stairs as she simultaneously tried to fasten her coat and keep a hold of the stack of papers in her hands. Why the fuck they weren’t in a fucking file was beyond her but it was too late now. Despite wearing flat shoes, trying to keep up with Malcolm was a bloody nightmare. She hefted the stack of papers up in her arms, she turned her head briefly to check she hadn’t dropped anything in her rush down the stairs, and promptly crashed into the back of Malcolm, who had stopped walking to wait for her to catch up with him. She fell backwards, dropping the pile of papers, which Malcolm reached out to grab out of the air before they could scatter across the floor. Clara landed on her arse and glared up at Malcolm  
“Oh, so you’ll snatch a pile of papers out of the air to stop them being scattered, but you won’t try to stop a person falling? How charming” she said angrily, before remembering who she was talking to, her face flushing red as she stammered out an apology. She stood quickly, and took the papers from Malcolm’s hands, rushing past him towards the door again. 

Malcolm stood for a moment longer, one eyebrow raised, watching Clara moving quickly away from him. What the fuck had that been about? What had he done wrong now? He shook his head slightly, puzzled at why the fuck the girl had reacted like that, like he would publicly shame her or shout at her. He wasn’t that fucking bad was he? Well, at least he knew that she wasn’t a complete fucking mouse of a girl – she had talked to him with some anger to start with. He couldn’t have a PA who was a complete fucking scaredy-pants; he had to have someone he could talk to without having them shying away from him like every single other fucking person in this shithouse. Suddenly , a smarmy posh voice behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. Fucking Julius Nicholson, the fucking twat – of course it was.

“Oh Malcolm, just who I was looking for. Is there any way…”   
“No Julius, there is no fucking way. Fuck off” Malcolm growled, turning his back on him and walking towards the door again.  
Clara walked out of the door of number 10 and, seeing the black car with tinted windows waiting outside, walked around to the drivers’ side and knocked gently on the window. It rolled down, revealing the driver of the car, a bald man wearing sunglasses, despite it being the middle of February, who looked her up and down slowly, obviously lingering on her chest and legs. Clara coughed uncomfortably, and the man’s eyes met hers again.  
“Yes?” he said in a bored voice, though flicked his eyes back down to her chest again. Clara coughed again and pulled the stack of papers up to her chest protectively before replying  
“Is this car for Mr Tucker?” as confidently as possible, which wasn’t very confidently at all, she cursed to herself.  
“Who wants to know?” the driver said, somehow managing to sound bored and challenging at the same time.  
“I do, you fucking withered ballsack” came a gruff Scottish brogue from behind her, causing Clara to jump slightly; she hadn’t heard him approach. God he’s like a fucking cat she thought wryly to herself - silent on the hunt. Fucking wonderful.

“This is Miss Oswald, and she’s apparently training to be my new PA so you treat her with some fucking respect, or I’ll fucking cut your cock off and send it to you with a postcard. Got it?” Malcolm threatened quietly, aware of the seemingly ever-present journalists held back by the gate across the road. The driver paled slightly, visibly gulping as he gave Clara a sheepish look.  
“Sorry Miss. I didn’t realise you were with Mr Tucker; you should have said something.” He said, seemingly apologetically, and Clara blushed slightly  
“Well… I didn’t really get the chance to say.” She said lamely, fully aware of Malcolm stood behind her; she could feel his body close behind hers and his eyes on the back of her head like fucking lasers. For fucks sake, this was ridiculous. He was her boss, twice her age, and a complete bastard at that. Absolutely no fucking way.  
“Well, as cosy as this chat is, some of us have a fucking meeting to get to, don’t we Clara?” Malcolm said patronisingly, and Clara rolled her eyes in annoyance and opened the car door to climb into the back seat, trying to ignore the way her stomach had clenched when he said he name in that beautiful Scottish brogue. Malcolm climbed in after her and suddenly, the car seemed a lot smaller than it had before. Clara inhaled sharply, which was a mistake. She could smell his aftershave in the confined space and it was gorgeous. She exhaled quickly, looking out of the window as she fastened her seatbelt, the car already moving out of the gates, into the busy rush hour London roads.

“We’re already fucking late, you twat. Just do as I say and turn down this road here” Malcolm said to the driver, leaning forward slightly.   
“But sir, the roads closed for repaving. We can’t go down here” the driver replied nervously. To right he should be fucking nervous; no one said no to Malcolm Tucker”  
“Just fucking turn left!” Malcolm spat and, as the car pulled into the closed road, he reached into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out a paper wallet. The car was pulled over by a worker, as fucking expected and as the driver rolled down the window to explain, Malcolm opened the wallet and leaned forward, pushing the wallet forward for the worker to see. The man’s eyes widened, before he said hurriedly  
“Of course you can use this road, Sir. I’m sorry it’s quite bumpy; parts of it have been dug up and parts haven’t. I apologise!” the man stuttered, before Malcolm could put him out of his fucking misery.  
“Thank you very much, Sir. Have a good day” Malcolm said pleasantly to the worker as the window was rolled up and the car pulled away again. He may be a bastard at work, but if he wanted to keep his job, he had to look at least pleasant to the general public, no matter how much some of them got on his nerves. 

Clara looked at Malcolm strangely from across the back seat. So maybe he wasn’t a total bastard, she thought to herself. Fuck. At least if he was a complete bastard, she had more of a reason to hate him, or at least only see him as her boss. That image was already crumbling, and she’d barely known him an hour. Fucking hell, this was going to be a long day.  
Malcolm saw Clara look at him questioningly and assumed it was to do with the paper he was holding. It usually fucking was. He opened it and handed it to her.  
“It’s like my own fucking psychic paper. People read it and they’re fucking tripping over themselves to help me” Malcolm explained drily, as Clara took the paper in her hands. Fuck, she had tiny hands… No! He had to stop thinking about her like that. For fucks sake, she was his new PA and she was twenty years younger than him and most importantly, she seemed to fucking despise him already. She seemed to be fucking disgusted by him. Fucking wonderful. But her hands… So fucking tiny, but so well-proportioned to the rest of her, like a fucking fairy, or a nymph, or a siren… Malcolm snapped himself out of his thoughts to find Clara holding the paper out to his again. His hand brushed slightly over hers as he took the paper. They both shivered slightly, Clara’s cheeks flushing faintly as her eyes whipped up to look at his; those fucking galaxies fixed on him again. He found himself having to remind himself to breathe as she didn’t look away and didn’t remove her hand from where it touched the palm of his hand. 

Suddenly, a hole in the road caused Clara to keel forward, falling against Malcolm heavily, her head ending up on his shoulder, tucked under his chin. Malcolm inhaled sharply, her beautiful scent of jasmine and vanilla filling his nose and his mind, his brain seeming to shut down momentarily as she placed her hands, her fucking tiny hands, against his chest to push herself away from him again, her fucking doe eyes once again looking up at him, seemingly in wonder, but more likely in fucking fear. Malcolm regained his senses as she pushed herself away, locking eyes with her again. Clara took in a shuddering breath as he watched, and turned quickly to look out of the window again, apparently trying to calm her stuttered breath. Malcolm knew she must be fucking disgusted at having been so close to him, and turned towards the window bitterly, filing away in his memory the feeling of her hands against his chest and her head tucked in the crook of his neck; the feeling of her hair under his chin and against his collarbones, where his shirt had loosened slightly, and the beautiful scent of jasmine and vanilla, which still surrounded him and his thoughts. Christ, what a fucking mess he was already. Besides, she had probably said it to herself – he was a miserable old bastard and nothing more; nothing could ever happen between them.  
“Drive carefully, you fucking moron” Malcolm sniped belatedly at the driver, as they continued on their way to the meeting, Malcolm taking out his phone and starting an email to another incompetent cocksucker who could barely spell their own name, let alone try to write their own fucking speeches. Malcolm sighed, trying desperately to take his mind off the fucking beautiful nymph sat beside him. Nothing could ever happen between them.

Clara turned her face to the window, looking but not really seeing as they drove through central London, thinking back to how he had felt beneath her – his chest surprisingly toned for a man of his age and the way her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. His scent had filled her nostrils, seeming to calm her down before she had realised what had happened, placing her hands on his chest and stifling a moan at how he felt beneath her hands, before pushing off him, moving back and looking up at him in wonder. As she came to her senses, her eyes had shuttered and she had turned back to the window, trying to calm her shaken nerves and her racing heart. It had taken nearly the entire journey to DOSaC to calm down to near her usual functioning levels, and still the thoughts of Malcolm would not leave her mind. But, no. He had already made it abundantly clear how he disliked her, and she had promised herself that she would not get involved with anyone again. She sighed quietly. Nothing could ever happen between them.


	4. Chapter 4

The meeting was long and tedious, Clara writing down what was necessary in her neat short hand. Malcolm glanced over her paper at the end of the meeting. What the fuck was that?! It looked like she’d been doodling throughout the entire meeting.  
“It’s shorthand, Sir” Clara said quietly, seeing his confused look “I learnt it when I took my journalism course at university. It could come in useful here, I thought.”  
“Well how long will it fucking take you to translate it all back? There isn’t time in this job to take the notes twice for every meeting!” he said sternly, drawing his eyebrows together as he looked down at her. Clara laughed softly, the sound making his stomach clench involuntarily. Fuck. 

“I don’t need to translate it back; I can read it as it is. It’ll take the same amount of time to type up as if I had written it normally; Don’t worry, I’ll still have time to fetch you as much coffee as you wish, m’Lord.” She joked quietly, still facing the rest of the room, watching the rest of the cocksuckers talking quietly as they left the room. Good fucking riddance to the lot of them.   
“Hey, I’m no lord, unlike some of the fuckers in this room. Although I would never say no to a coffee. Besides, I’ve got to have something to get me through the fucking day” Malcolm said flippantly. Clara laughed  
“That bad, is it?” She asked, looking up at him beside her. He looked down at her  
“Trust me darling, you haven’t seen the worst of it yet. You’ve only had to listen to an hour of that fucking waste of skin nattering on about some fuckwit policy she’s brewing to get back in the Prime Minister’s good books. Well, it won’t fucking work. He doesn’t give a shit about what goes on in here, as long as it reflects well on him in the end.” Malcolm replied, raising an eyebrow at her. Clara laughed again.

“Well then, I can’t wait to get started.” She joked teasingly, smirking up at him before picking up the papers from the table and standing from her chair, pushing it under the table as she turned to leave the room. Malcolm watched her walk out of the door, his eyes definitely not straying to her arse, which was moving perfectly as she walked away from him… Fuck, no. He couldn’t do this. Not with his PA. Fuck, maybe he just needed to go and find a hooker somewhere and calm himself down, or Clara fucking Oswald was going to be the death of him, with her adorable nose, her galaxy eyes, the fact she was tiny as a fucking fairy, and her undeniable perfectness. He was fucked.

Once they got back to his office, he took her coat and hung it in the corner with his, taking an extra moment by the coat stand to inhale deeply, smelling her gorgeous scent of jasmine and vanilla, before turning back to see her moving some papers around on his desk. The meeting with Nicola fucking Murray had put him on edge, so when he saw her drop a pile of important looking papers on the floor, he snapped  
“For fucks sake, you’re training to be my new PA! How is it that you can’t hold a fucking pile of papers without fucking it up and dropping them all over the floor? For fucks sake pick them up and put them back in their fucking order!” he shouted at her. Clara looked back at him with wide eyes, and he could see fear in them, quickly showing tears which seemed to build at an alarming rate.

“But, Sir, I don’t know what the papers are… I don’t know what order they’re meant to be in or even if I’m meant to see them.” She stuttered, still looking fearfully at him “Could you maybe show me how you want them ordered?” She asked timidly.  
“For fucks sake woman, you call yourself a PA? Well obviously not yet, you’re fucking useless” Malcolm spat at her, his eyes flashing at her. Clara suddenly seemed to snap out of her fear, looking up at him with rapidly growing anger. Fuck, she was beautiful when she was angry. But shit, now she looked like she was on the fucking warpath, and he was in her way.

Malcolm looked down at Clara, who stared back at him, anger flashing in her galaxy eyes. Fuck, he was in trouble.  
“I’m your PA, not your slave! If you don’t want me as your PA, you only have to say!” she shouted at him, tears of rage in her eyes. Shit. He wouldn’t know what to do if she resigned. He may not allow himself to act on his fucking feelings but if she wasn’t with him he’d go crazy in this fucking madhouse. Shit. She was turning to leave. As her hand reached for the door handle, his hand shot out and grabbed at her arm. Fuck. What was he doing. She would be repulsed. She would leave him.  
“Wait, Clara” Malcolm said desperately, pulling her away from the door towards him, her hair whipping around as she turned back to face him angrily “I haven’t treated you well as my PA I fucking realise that now. Can we please start again?” He said hopefully.

Clara looked up at him, his eyes filled with such hope, she couldn’t look away. She hadn’t wanted to leave – the job or him. Especially him. The job just meant she could be near him. She bit her lip slightly, trying to hold herself back from looking too eager, before nodding her head a little, looking up at him through her eyelashes before looking down again, blushing.   
Malcolm looked down at Clara, who was still blushing; fuck knows why. But the way she was biting her lip… Fuck. He could barely hold himself back as her put out his hand to her.

“Ok then, let’s start again. Hello, Miss, I’m Malcolm Tucker. Pleased to meet you” Malcolm said softly, his Scottish brogue showing as he took Clara’s tiny hand in his own. He looked at their entwined hands, his overpowering hers by inches, with her fucking fairy hands and his seemingly giant in comparison. Looking up at her face, he saw her eyes also on their joined hands, her cheeks still a light pink, and her chest moving as she took rapid breaths. She looked up at him and he could have sworn he saw desire in her eyes, but surely not. He looked down at their hands again, taking a deep breath to steady himself.  
Clara inhaled quietly as he took her hand in his. Christ, he had a firm handshake. She could feel her legs shaking slightly, and worried that they might collapse underneath her if this contact continued much longer. But as Clara looked up at him, her eyes softened when she saw him inhale sharply, eyes on their joined hands.

“Hello Malcolm, I’m Clara Oswald. I think you’ve hired me as your PA” she joked softly, smiling as he looked up into her eyes and biting her lip again to hold back a grin. She saw his eyes flicker to her mouth and she released her lip from between her teeth momentarily before catching it again, worrying it slightly with her teeth.  
Fuck. How the fuck is he meant to function properly when she’s tormenting him with that lip. He takes another deep breath and looks down at their hands, moving his so they are stood in the middle of his office shaking hands, probably looking like a right pair of twats if anyone was watching. He glances up to see that her eyes are also locked onto their linked hands and her breathing is definitely faster than it should have been. Fuck, he couldn’t keep doing this. He had to stop, before he did something he regretted. He went to pull his hand away, but Clara seemed reluctant to let go. What the fuck was she doing? He looked at her, and saw what looked like hurt and longing. What? She was hurt he was taking his hand back? Still looking at her, he waited for her to pull back, for her to realise whose hand she was holding and recoil in disgust, but instead she seemed to be looking at him in… desire? Longing? Fuck, he didn’t know; perhaps he was making it all up.

Clara looked up at Malcolm, seeing him apparently struggling with something, so she moved slightly to look into his eyes.  
“Malcolm are you ok?” she asked tentatively  
“Stop it with the eyes, it’s like you’re malfunctioning” Malcolm said gruffly, looking away from Clara’s prying eyes. Clara bit her lip again, worrying she’d said something wrong, that he’d pull away, that this would be over. She looked away, but looked back when she felt his already firm grip on her hand tighten again. 

She saw him moving towards her, his free hand moving to her shoulder and their entwined hand becoming trapped between their bodies. Her eyes widened as Malcolm’s lips touched hers, questioningly to start with, but then with more confidence when she didn’t pull away. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips moulded more firmly to hers, beginning to move softly. The hands trapped between their bodies slowly moved apart and Malcolm’s hands moved to Clara’s hips, pulling her towards him, closing the distance between them. Clara moaned softly as he pulled her closer to him, their bodies touching as he walked forward a few steps, until Clara’s back was pressed against the door of his office.   
Clara draped her arms lazily around Malcolm’s neck, losing herself in his kiss, his touch, his scent, everything. In between short gasps for breath, she moved her hands to run through the short curls of his hair. Fucking heaven. She felt like she was in heaven. One of Malcolm’s hands moved from her hip up to wind his fingers through her hair, before moving to gently cup her cheek, his fingertips still running gently through her hair. Clara moaned softly as she opened her mouth, feeling his tongue enter her mouth, tasting her softly. She opened her mouth, inhaling sharply at the flow of sensations, causing Malcolm to pull back slowly, Clara leaning forward slightly, catching his lower lip between her teeth and biting down softly, trying to stop his retreat.

Malcolm looked down at Clara, who still had her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, his hips pressed snuggly against hers, holding her against the door. She was breathing heavily, her eyes lidded as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes, her arms loosening slightly, bringing one hand up to cup his face as the other played softly with his hair. Shit. Fuckety fuck, what had he done. He’d kissed his new PA after less than a day of working together. This couldn’t happen, it just couldn’t. It would cause a fucking scandal. He’d be shamed at best, out of a job at worst, but Clara would be out of a job at best. She could be blacklisted, publicly shamed. He couldn’t have that weight on his shoulders. No. He had to make out it was a was fucking mistake, even though all he wanted to do was pull her back to him and kiss her senseless.  
Clara looked up at him questioningly as he stiffened in her arms, pulling back from her and walking towards his desk. She stood, still leaning against the office door; she knew if she tried to walk, her legs would collapse underneath her. He turned to face her, his eyebrows drawn. He looked gorgeous, and considerably less scary now his hair was ruffled and his face flushed slightly. 

“Miss Oswald, that was wrong.” Malcolm said sternly “It won’t happen again, I can fucking promise you that” Clara looked at him in confusion as he looked at her with feigned disgust. She could feel the hurt clawing at her chest and taking over her eyes. 

Fuck, she was looking at him with those galaxy eyes again, full of hurt now. If she carried on, he wouldn’t stand a fucking chance. This had to come to an end this fucking instant.  
“You will do well as my PA, but don’t think for a second that that will happen again. That was a fucking mistake and I don’t plan on repeating it” Malcolm said coldly, hardening his eyes as he looked down at her from across the room. Clara looked at him, hurt, before reaching behind her for the door handle and retreating from the room as fast as possible, a few tears spilling over onto her cheeks. Malcolm collapsed into his chair and put his head in his hands. The fucking best thing to happen to him in a long time and he had to fucking push her away, for her own good. She couldn’t be caught doing anything with him, or her reputation would be in ruins, and she was so fucking young. No, he couldn’t let that happen, not to her. That fucking nymph, who he could tell was going to be a problem, but not one he was going to get rid of willingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! X


	5. Chapter 5

Clara ran through the building until she reached Sam’s office, opening the door without knocking and slamming it behind her, walking to Sam’s desk and collapsing into the chair in front of it, putting her head in her hands. Her hair fell around her face as she tried to hold back the tears that were rapidly spilling down her cheeks. Sam looked at her with wide eyes, putting her hand over the bottom of the phone that she was holding, before putting it back to her ear, her eyes still on Clara, who was hunched over, her forehead practically on her knees, her shoulders shaking softly as she tried to hold back the oncoming flood of tears.

“I’m very sorry, but I will have to call you back” Sam said quickly down the phone, before placing it on the table to stop any more calls coming through. She quickly walked round her desk, pulling her chair round to where Clara was hunched, before going to change the sign on her door to read MEETING IN PROGRESS rather than VACANT, before sitting down in the chair next to Clara and pulling her into a tight hug.  
“What’s happened to you, eh? I only left you for a few hours. Was it the meeting?” Sam joked softly, stroking Clara’s hair gently. Clara laughed quietly, before breaking down into tears again. She rested her head on Sam’s shoulder and put her arms around her.  
“Sam, you told me this would be a good idea. You told me to take this job. You said it would help me get over Danny, but I feel worse. I feel guilty!” Clara sobbed quietly.

“What happened?” Sam asked quietly, pulling back slightly and tilting Clara’s head up to look at her.  
“Malcolm… He kissed me, and I enjoyed it! It’s only been 7 months since Danny died; it’s too soon and I feel so guilty! How could I do this?” She murmured, almost to herself, while Sam looked at her in concern.  
“What exactly happened, love?” Sam asked again, pushing Clara’s hair away from her eyes as Clara looked up at her with red eyes and shaking slightly.   
“I got angry at him, as I do. I threatened to quit and turned to leave, but he pulled me back and pushed me against the door and kissed me. And God, I loved it. I wanted it. I promised myself I wouldn’t do another workplace relationship, but fuck it, Malcolm’s perfect, and I want it. I want him.” Clara said, before breaking into sobs again. Sam looked at the clock on the wall. 3:17pm. 

“Take the rest of the day off Clara. Come back tomorrow and start again. I’ll talk to Malcolm and…”  
“No! You can’t say anything to him. You can’t. I saw how he looked at me when he pushed me away. He was disgusted with himself, with me. He doesn’t want me. You can’t say anything to him; promise me!” Clara said desperately, a slightly mad look in her eye as she looked at Sam pleadingly. Sam looked confusedly at Clara.  
“It couldn’t have been disgust Clara; you’re gorgeous, you’re young and besides, you said he kissed you. If he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t have kissed you in the first place.” Sam tried to reason with her as she held Clara in another hug before pulling back. Clara sighed shakily, sniffing as she looked at Sam.

“Fine then, I’ll come back tomorrow and start tomorrow. Tell Malcolm it was a mistake and I wish to only have a professional relationship with him” she said resolutely, hardening her eyes as Sam opened her mouth to protest “No Sam, that’s how it has to be. It’s too soon after Danny, I won’t insult his memory.”  
“Clara, it’s been 7 months! I know you loved him, but you were only together a few months! He would want you to be happy, I know he would!” Sam tried to reason with her, and Clara’s self-assured posture seemed to crumple slightly, and she looked down at her feet, trying to steady herself again.  
“Why couldn’t it have been you, Sam? It would be so much easier.” Clara said sadly, looking up at Sam wistfully, and Sam looked back down at her, laughing softly.  
“You know why, Clara. It was convenient, we looked after each other, but we wouldn’t work long-term. Besides, you have Malcolm now” Sam said cheekily, causing Clara to let out a choked laugh, and punch Sam lightly in the arm.  
“Oi, don’t even start that again.” Clara choked out, sniffing again and wiping the back of her hand across her eyes in an attempt to stop the flow of tears. She reached out, pulling Sam to her again and hugged her close, resting her head on Sam’s shoulder and closing her eyes, still shaking slightly and sniffing occasionally. 

Eventually, Sam pulled back and looked at Clara.  
“You OK now?” she said questioningly, and Clara nodded her head and smiled shakily at her. Neither of them saw Malcolm stood at the door of Sam’s office, watching as Clara leaned forward and kissed Sam gently, thankful for the comfort and familiarity. Sam put her arms around Clara’s waist and pulled her closer without thinking, kissing her back, harder and more assured than Malcolm had. Malcolm watched as Clara’s hands moved to Sam’s hair, pulling it gently out of the bun it was tied up in, and running her fingers through it as it fell over Sam’s shoulders. Sam’s eyes opened at the sound of a sharp but quiet intake of breath at the door, and turned her eyes without breaking the kiss, moving her hand momentarily from Clara’s hip to beckon Malcolm into the room. Malcolm stepped into the room as if in a daze, his eyes locked on Clara, this fucking minx whose goal seemed to be to give him a fucking heart attack on day one. Sam raised one eyebrow at Malcolm as Clara moaned softly, daring him to interrupt. Malcolm narrowed his eyes slightly as he realised it was Sam’s way of telling him to buck up and say something. He steeled himself before speaking.

“Well Oswald, if your aim is to give me a fucking heart attack by the end of your first day, you’re doing a wonderful fucking job of it.” He said gruffly, moving his hands to cover his growing problem as he saw Clara tense and withdraw from Sam, before picking up her bag from the floor and running out of the door, not looking at Malcolm as she pushed past him. Malcolm turned as if to stop her leaving, but Sam placed her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from following her.  
“Let her go, Malcolm” Sam said. Malcolm turned around in a panic; was she fucking quitting? Would he never see her again?   
“Don’t worry, she’ll be back tomorrow” Sam reassured him, seeing the panic on his face “She just feels guilty. Give her some time.”   
Malcolm looked at her questioningly. Guilty? Was she fucking married or something? Why was she fucking guilty? Sam sighed, and shut the door to her office again, telling Malcolm to sit down. She would tell him what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Anything I should improve? Any mistakes? Tell me! xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Anything you recognise isn't mine! Please let me know what you think!~

“What the fuck’s going on, Sam? You’ve got some fucking explaining to do.” Malcolm said as menacingly as he could, but he knew it wouldn’t work on Sam. She was used to his ways now.   
“Well, you’ve probably guessed that I knew Clara before I gave her this job” Sam said, sitting down again behind her desk and motioning for Malcolm to sit in the seat that Clara had occupied before.  
“Well, no fucking way, I thought you just kissed all new PAs for comfort” Malcolm groused sarcastically. Sam looked at him in annoyance and he rolled his eyes, sitting down heavily in the chair in front of Sam’s desk, bringing his ankle to rest on his knee, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back, looking at Sam expectantly. Sam sighed deeply and fiddled slightly with her hands, looking nervous.

“I’m not really sure I should tell you all this. Most of it’s not my story to tell.” Sam said quickly, trying to justify her nerves.  
“Well then, make it a good one and maybe I won’t tell Clara how much you’ve told me” Malcolm smiled threateningly, Sam blanching slightly at the look on his face. It was definitely his bollocking face. She’d never had it directed at her; Malcolm must really like Clara. Sam swallowed nervously, leaning forward slightly, composing herself.  
“Right, fine. Here we go. I met Clara at university, what, 90 years ago? She was studying English and I was studying journalism, so we crossed over a bit during our first year. We became friends and shared a house for the other 3 years of our courses. It was convenient. Neither of us wanted the distraction of a relationship, but we still had our needs like everyone else. We slept together, lived together, we were best friends; still are. She’s my best friend and if you hurt her in any way you will have me to deal with” Sam said, narrowing her eyes at Malcolm as he raised his eyebrows at her.  
“You slept with her..? And you obviously still have feelings for each other. What’s going on then? Why the fuck aren’t you fucking married with three adopted anklebiters in a cottage in the countryside?” Malcolm said in an annoyed voice “And why the fuck am I getting dragged into it all?”

Sam looked at Malcolm darkly.  
“We’re not in love, Malcolm, she’s my best friend but we’re not enough for each other. I can’t be what she needs – she may be bi, but she’s always preferred men and last time I checked, I didn’t have a dick.” Sam said sarcastically, and Malcolm chuckled.  
“So why all the fuss, what’s it all about?” He said, unfolding his arms and uncrossing his legs, leaning forwards and leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Clara had a boyfriend a few months ago. She loved him so much. He was called Danny… Danny Pink” Malcolm snorted at the name and Sam looked at him sharply “She met him while she worked at Coal Hill. He taught maths, she taught English, and she asked him to take her for a drink after work one day. It was a bit rocky for them, but she loved him. He used to be a soldier, she told me. He hardly ever talked about it, but he was out there, in the army. She told me he’d accidentally killed a child once, on a raid, and couldn’t forgive himself. But she was helping him; helping him get over it, helping him live again.” Sam sighed and covered her eyes with her hands, rubbing away a couple of tears that had escaped. “He died 7 months ago. Hit by a car. Clara won’t forgive herself. She was on the phone to him at the time and she blames herself completely; she says if she hadn’t been talking to him, he would have seen the car, he wouldn’t be dead.” Here Sam leant back again, folding her arms protectively and shaking her head softly at the memories. 

“She just stopped. For 3 months, she just stopped. Stopped caring, stopped working. She lost her job over it, which was why I got her this one. A fresh start, away from that damned school. They offered her her job back, but I destroyed the letters before she could read them. That place would be toxic to her, I couldn’t let her go back there. She didn’t want to anyway. That fucking building would be full of Danny, full of memories. She wouldn’t cope – she’s too fragile as it is. I was hoping that this job would bring her out of her shell a bit more; having to deal with you every day might give her some confidence. Besides, she has a thing for older men and god knows you could do with a fuck now and again, you cranky old bastard.” She said cheekily, grinning lopsidedly at Malcolm, whose eyebrows had knitted together, and was blushing slightly. Christ, for a man who spent a lot of time telling politicians to go fuck themselves, he sure blushed when his own sex life was brought up, Sam thought wryly.

Malcolm’s mind was racing. Shit, he shouldn’t have been so fucking harsh on her. He’d pushed her away and, fuck, that was the last thing he should have done. It was obvious she felt guilty, but perhaps if he hadn’t pushed her away, if he’s let her know that she was wanted, even if he didn’t really know her yet, she wouldn’t have fled. He put his head in his hands, sighing deeply before a thought hit him and he whipped his head up to look at Sam again.

“She is coming back, isn’t she? I haven’t scared her off completely?” He said, sounding nervous. Oh for fucks sake, he was Malcolm Tucker, he shouldn’t be nervous of a fucking fairy of a girl half his age whom he’d known for no more than 7 fucking hours. It was ridiculous. The press would have a field day if they knew.  
“Of course she’s coming back” Sam said calmly, seeing the conflict on his face. She knew it wouldn’t be easy for Clara or Malcolm, especially as she was leaving at the end of the week. She hated to leave Clara, but her father needed help, and refused to leave Manchester, so she had to go to him.

“She told me to tell you that she wants a completely professional relationship with you. Nothing more. She says she’s sworn off workplace romance, and I wouldn’t blame her to be honest, but she also said how badly she wanted you. God knows why, you miserable old bastard, but she wants you, pretty desperately by the looks on her face.” Sam said softly, almost laughing out loud at the look of disbelief on Malcolm’s face.  
“She… She wants… me? Really?” Malcolm said, his voice quiet and uncertain “Why the fuck would she want me? She’s young, she’s fucking gorgeous! She could have any guy she wanted. Why would she go for me in any way. I’m a fucking awful excuse of a man. I work and I work, there’s nothing else. Hell, I haven’t had sex in-“  
“Too much information, Malcolm, I’m not your bloody councillor” Sam said, her nose scrunched in distaste. “I’m still your PA until Friday, then I’m gone.”

Malcolm looked at Sam as if suddenly realising she was there. Shit. He had said too much. He couldn’t pursue Clara in any way while he worked here, it was too big a fucking risk. And God knew he’d be working here until he fucking keeled over, a fucking husk. He made as if to get up and stalk off and forget this conversation had happened; it was none of his business and he couldn’t risk dragging Clara’s name through the dirt.  
“Just give her a few weeks” Sam said as he reached the door. His hand paused on the handle and he turned slightly, looking half over his shoulder at her “Give her a few weeks to settle down and settle in, learn the ropes, learn how to look after you. Then you can make a move. And I suggest you do; you’re perfect for each other.”  
“You make her sound like my fucking carer. For fucks sake!” Malcolm grumbled as he turned back to the door. Just before he left the room, he looked at Sam once more.  
“She’s definitely coming back though?” He said, hating himself for sounding so fucking unsure.  
Sam smiled at him knowingly. Fucks sake, he hated it when she did that.  
“Yes, of course she is. Just let her settle in first, and don’t scare her away this time. She said you rejected her after you kissed her. Don’t do that again or, God help me, I’ll cut your fucking balls off” Sam smiled tightly at him, and he shuddered slightly at the warning. For some reason, he didn’t doubt she would. He nodded once, leaving the room and returning to his office, which seemed so fucking empty now Clara had fled. He sighed, rubbing his hands across his face and through his hair. He would pray for a fucking miracle, that she would return and he wouldn’t scare her away again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Anything you recognise isn't mine~ 
> 
> Please please please tell me what you think! Leave a comment - short or long, I don't mind, just please give me some feedback!  
> I haven't ever shared my writing with people before this so I get nervous!

Clara took a deep breath before walking resolutely towards the staff entrance at Downing Street. It was Friday, meaning that Sam left at lunchtime, and God knew she was terrified for the moment Sam disappeared and she was left to deal with Malcolm on her own. It made it even harder knowing what a good kisser the Spin Doctor was, how well he fit pressed up against her… No, she had to stop this! Things couldn’t continue like this, with her drifting off into daydreams every 5 minutes only to be snapped at by the man who was starring in them. It was a joke, and typical for her to get so hung up on a man she knew she could never have. 

She shut her eyes briefly, telling herself off for thinking about this so thoroughly before 9am. She just needed to get through today and learn the last few things from Sam and then she would have a couple of days to recuperate and sort out her thoughts… Unless there was a public media scandal, in which case she’d be right at the centre of it with Malcolm, trying to clear up yet another political shit storm. She’d helped with two already this week, and admired Sam a lot more than she used to for staying this fucking calm for so long and for covering up some frankly appalling scandals so cleverly. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be tearing her hair out after a few weeks, but she was getting into it now, learning the ropes and how to keep up with Malcolm Tucker, who seemed to be a whirlwind of anger and swearing, tearing around Downing Street and occasionally the rest of London, sorting out the idiots in the other departments.

As she reached to open the door, it was flung open from the inside and a very angry-looking Malcolm Tucker strode through the door, almost missing Clara as she shrunk back from him, gulping quietly. Wonderful, it looked like today was going to be a long one.

“Ah Clara, just who I was looking for. Come on, we’re going to be fucking late, Madame, as it seems you can’t tell the fucking time properly. You’re late!” He said brusquely, looking down at Clara from underneath his bushy eyebrows, which were drawn together as usual. Oh, how Clara wanted to reach up and kiss the stress lines from his forehead and make him relax in every way… Oh fuck it, she had to stop this. She looked down at her phone quickly, frowning herself when she saw it.

“Malcolm, I’m not late, it’s only 8:46, so in fact, I’m 14 minutes early” She said indignantly, looking back at him. “Also, we have no scheduled meetings until 2pm today, so there isn’t anything to be late for, unless you scheduled a meeting and didn’t update the planner I set up..?” She said matter-of-factly, raising one eyebrow at Malcolm as looked down at her in surprise.

“Well, I never pegged you to be such a fucking control freak, Oswald.” He said, laughing roughly, the sound making Clara’s knees feel weak. She leaned against the wall for support, hoping he didn’t notice.

“I am not a control freak! I just made a joint planner so we can both see if we schedule anything rather than cluttering up each other’s email inboxes. It makes so much sense, and I can’t believe Sam didn’t do it!” She said, narrowing her eyes slightly as Malcolm laughed at her, knowing he could rile her up so easily. 

Christ she was gorgeous, standing there looking so angry with him. Malcolm had seen her lean against the wall. She thought she was being subtle, but he noticed everything; had to in his fucking job, where any errors could mean the end of his time at Downing Street. He laughed again, hoping to notice a reaction, but now she just seemed pissed off with him for calling her a control freak. Well, he wouldn’t bring it up again, but she so fucking was. The office was so much more organised now Clara was in charge, changing Sam’s filing systems while Sam was still fucking there, the cheeky little minx. Sam had laughed about it; she knew what Clara was like, how she liked things to be done perfectly. 

Oh, he bet she did, Malcolm thought as he remembered the sight of Sam and Clara kissing so passionately in Sam’s office a few days back. Fuck, that had caused more than a few issues during the week. The image seemed to keep popping into his mind when he wasn’t expecting it. Then, the thoughts always led to how good she felt, pressed between him and the door, how perfectly she fit with him, her hips moulded softly against his as he kissed her, his hand running through her hair, holding her face to his. Fuck. He seemed to snap out of his daydream, looking down at Clara, seeing her clearly once more.

“Right, well, looks like we’re taking an unscheduled trip to DoSAC then. Let’s try to catch the buggers off guard.” Malcolm said, winking at Clara. He watched as she blushed lightly when he winked at her, catching her lip between her teeth. Fuck, it was too early for this sort of show, he scowled briefly to himself; he’d have to go and have a wank in the toilets if she carried on like this, adding to the images he already had in his mind that he couldn’t get rid of, not that he’d tried too hard to get rid of them.

Malcolm shut the door behind him and strode in the direction of the car he had called for to take them to DoSAC. Clara leant more heavily on the wall for a moment, breathing deeply and closing her eyes, willing her legs to work properly again, before pushing off the wall and walking slightly shakily after Malcolm.

The car journey passed peacefully, unlike the last one, with only a few moments of awkward eye contact when Malcolm caught Clara watching him answering emails on his phone. Malcolm smirked to himself

“Whatever’s mine is yours, love” he said, looking up to catch Clara out. She blushed fiercely and quickly turned her head to look out of the window, rather than at Malcolm as she had been before. She had been struck by the fact that he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket and her mind was filled again with the memory of how firm he had felt pressed up against her during the previous car journey, and the kiss on Monday. She shook her head lightly, trying to dispel the images before Malcolm noticed that her breathing was slightly more ragged than it should have been.

Malcolm was on the phone when they arrived at the DoSAC offices. The driver pulled up outside, the same fucking incompetent driver who had so obviously been looking at his Clara inappropriately when she had first started. No, not his Clara. Fuck it. He motioned for her to stay seated while he got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. She looked so confused; fuck it, she looked hurt. Did she think he was leaving her outside, that she wasn’t good enough to take into another department. He sighed, then remembered he was still on the phone, with fucking Jamie still nattering, shouting, down the line at him.

“Shut the fuck up Jamie, you twat. Sort it out or I’ll fucking cut your balls off with a blunt butter knife. Now fuck off, a lady needs my help” Malcolm said bitingly, ending with a slightly smug tone.

“A lady? Fucking hell, Malcolm, look at you, helping out blind women. Well, she must be fucking blind or she wouldn’t look at you, would she?” Jamie scoffed, causing Malcolm to roll his eyes.

“Ha-fucking-ha Jamie, you’re a fucking comedian today aren’t you? Well, get back to fucking work and I won’t have to fucking skin you for that last comment now, will I?” Malcolm snarled, ending the call as he walked around the front of the car. He opened the car door by Clara, putting out his hand for her to take. She looked up at him, her fucking doe eyes still full of confusion. Christ, he was just trying to be helpful, was that so fucking hard to believe… Probably.

Clara looked up at Malcolm, his hand outstretched to her. Maybe he wasn’t such a bastard, despite rejecting her so horrifically on Monday. She couldn’t refuse his help or she’d offend him and God knew she needed to stay on his good side if she wanted to keep this job, and God also knew that she needed this job to stay near him. He intrigued her, aroused her, and she didn’t want to leave that now. She took a deep breath and put her hand in his, holding her papers in her other arm and stepping out of the car. 

Shit, his grip was just as tight as Monday, when their damn handshake had gotten her into so much trouble. It was lucky he was holding her hand or her legs may have buckled for the second time of the day and it was only, she glanced at her watch subtly, 9:08am. Well, that had to be a fucking record for her. Two leg buckles before breakfast. Oh fuck… she blushed as her stomach growled… before breakfast. She had been in such a rush to be early to the office that she had skipped breakfast again. She usually picked something up from the shop on the way there or when she fetched Malcolm’s first coffee, but she’d never got that far today. 

She looked up at Malcolm, hoping he hadn’t heard. No such luck. He was smirking down at her, still holding her hand, though he appeared not to realise and she sure as hell wasn’t going to take her hand away before she had to.

“Fuck’s sake Oswald, you can’t skip breakfast before meetings. Terribly embarrassing situation to be in” he said, quirking an eyebrow and grinning devilishly, causing Clara to blush again, though not from embarrassment as he might think “Come on, we have time to pick up a sandwich before we have to meet the fucking useless marzipan dildos upstairs. Still holding her hand, he shut the car door and pulled her after him towards the DoSAC building, muttering about undernourished fairies, Clara biting her lip and blushing as she was pulled along, but she was certainly not complaining.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry it's been so long - life's a bit hectic at the moment but soon, it'll be back to normal and I can write to my heart's content.   
> Please please tell me what you think - these fics are the first time I've shared my writing with anyone so, obviously, I'm a bit anxious about them. Please tell me what you think!  
> Enjoy xx

9:30am arrived quickly and despite Malcolm taking her for breakfast, he’d spent the majority of the time in the cafeteria answering emails on his phone. She was grateful in a way; she didn’t like people watching her eat, though she had caught him looking at her a few times, coughing nervously and looking away when he realised he’d been caught. Her head was spinning in confusion. She couldn’t understand him. He rejected her harshly, but seemed to watch her all the time. 

She was dreading when Sam left and she had no one to talk to about it. She had never been hugely sociable, and didn’t have many friends, and none in London. Sam was by far her closest friend and she was going to miss her terribly when she moved up to Manchester next week. But she knew she could be happy here; she was already enjoying her job, despite having to deal with the ‘hormonal cunts’ as Malcolm called the other politicians. She followed Malcolm up the stairs to the DoSAC offices, taking in her surroundings carefully. She hadn’t been here before and she hadn’t realised quite how many people worked here. She followed Malcolm as he walked into the main offices, his sharp eyes flicking across the room, taking in the people who looked back at him in trepidation. 

She smiled softly as his eyes landed on her and seemed to soften as he looked at her, flicking his gaze up and down her body, as if seeing her for the first time. For fucks sake, this was why she was so confused. His signals were so mixed, her brain was like a fucking smoothie when she tried to work it out. She blushed slightly, tearing her gaze from his and he seemed to snap out of his daze, turning abruptly to stride across the office.

Clara took a deep breath, willing the redness in her cheeks to subside before following him to where he was stood in the doorway to a private office. Nicola Murray, the plaque on the door read. Oh, she’d heard of this woman in the news, as well as in several shouted conversations Malcolm had had in his office. She wiped her hand across her mouth to try to stop the small smile that threatened to emerge as she remembered some of the… colourful language Malcolm had used when ranting about this department. The woman was currently sat at her desk, spluttering slightly with surprise.

“Oh, Malcolm, what a… pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you’d be dropping in today.” She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously, and Malcolm smirked nastily. 

“Well, Nicola, it’s your lucky day then, isn’t it?” he turned , looking over his shoulder to where Clara stood, still holding the papers she had meant to drop off at her desk this morning “Clara, could you go to the reception and ask them to call over to Downing Street and send over Jamie MacDonald. We’re going to do a full department inspection, I think.” Clara saw the colour drain from Nicola’s face as she frantically began typing as silently as possible, presumably warning the rest of the department to hide the fucking tea and biscuits and the desk ping pong she’d spotted on the way in. She smiled at him, nodding her head and turning to walk to reception. She could practically feel his eyes on her arse, and she definitely didn’t sway her hips slightly more than necessary as she walked away from him. Christ, his responses to her were getting fucking confusing.

She approached the desk in the reception of the building, hefting the papers in her arms to one side. The girl at the desk looked up at her as she reached the desk, raising an eyebrow and looking her up and down. The girl, Amelia, the name badge said, was taller than her and had gorgeous long blonde hair. She looked a few years older than Clara, and was dressed impeccably, making Clara feel a bit dowdy in comparison. She swallowed nervously and cleared her throat.

“Um, hi, I’ve been asked to ask you to call Downing Street and ask that Jamie MacDonald gets a car over here for a full inspection of DoSAC.” She smiled nervously at the woman, who looked at her in disdain.

“Who sent you?” the woman asked snottily, turning back to her computer screen. 

“Malcolm Tucker did. I’m his new PA, Clara Oswald.” Clara said, attempting a smile at the icy woman, who looked back at her unimpressed. Suddenly a gleam appeared in her eyes and she looked at Clara calculatingly.

“I hope you’re not thinking of trying anything with Malcolm, Miss Oswald. After all, we all know he’s the big man in politics and trust me, he doesn’t need someone like you following him around like a puppy when he could have anyone he wanted. Anyone at all.” She said, biting her lip and looking at Clara triumphantly. Clara swallowed, not allowing the tears to build in her eyes. She coughed slightly at the lump in her throat and shook her head slightly, looking down at Amelia coldly.

“Could you just call Downing Street for me please?” She said, smiling tightly at the blonde bitch in front of her. The bitch smiled cruelly and told Clara to go back upstairs, before picking up the phone and talking sweetly down the line to the receptionist at Downing Street.

Clara sighed as she neared the stairs again, of course she couldn’t compare with people like Amelia. The way she said what she had, she knew that she liked Malcolm as well, and why wouldn’t he choose her. She was taller, prettier and had a better figure than Clara. She wouldn’t let herself cry though. She stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, not quite sure what to do next. 

 

Before long, Malcolm emerged from Nicola’s office and saw Clara stood by the lift, looking very lost and unsure. But fucking gorgeous. Those eyes would be the death of him yet. He approached her and looked down at her as she raised her eyes slowly to look at him. There was a flicker of something in her eyes that caused Malcolm to frown slightly. She looked tired, resigned. Something must have happened. Had it been that fucking receptionist downstairs? She was a fucking pain and he was so fucking close to getting her fired. He looked at Clara softly and led her down the stairs. 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Malcolm asked Clara to fetch a coffee for him and Jamie, and took the pile of papers gently out of her hands.  
“You don’t have to carry them everywhere you go, Oswald.” He teased “Just leave them at reception and if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll guard them with her life.” He noticed the smile she had given him when he teased her slip from her face as she heard mention of the receptionist. It was as if shutters had closed behind her eyes, cutting off her emotions completely. Fuck, that smile had warmed him inside, and he felt himself gravitating towards her slightly, catching himself before he actually touched her. Clara nodded resolutely, still avoiding his eyes, as she left for the cafeteria to fetch the coffees. Malcolm sighed and turned to wait for Jamie. Well, he should drop these papers off at reception first; they weighed more than they looked.

Clara stood at the coffee machine, absentmindedly stirring one coffee while she waited for the other, thoughts running through her mind at 1000 miles per second. Had Malcolm been involved with that bitchy receptionist? Had he slept with her? Was she ever in the running or should she just give up now, because she couldn’t even compare to people like Amelia, her brain sneered at her. She sighed, picking up the second coffee and making her way back towards reception. 

As she turned the corner to where the desk was, she stopped in her tracks, her mouth falling open and her head spinning slightly. In front of her, the bitch Amelia was holding the front of Malcolm’s suit jacket and was kissing him passionately. Clara felt tears begin to cloud her eyes and she shook her head slightly. Of course this would happen to her. She’d start to fall for the one man she couldn’t have, the one man who could make her smile with one look, and warmed her heart and, hell, her body. He made her feel hot, her skin flushing when he stood near to her and her breath quickening whenever they were in close proximity. But here he was, kissing a hot blonde receptionist like the world depended on it. Of course he wouldn’t look at her, plain old Clara, who, even after only a week, worked her arse off for him, helping him, fetching him coffee, arranging his meetings. 

She steeled herself, walking towards the couple and placing the coffees firmly down on the surface and picking up the papers from beside Malcolm, who turned his head suddenly to look at her. The bitch looked at her smugly, and Clara looked back at her icily. Fuck it, she wasn’t going to look weak in front of this bitch. Malcolm looked down at her in horror, opening his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Jamie, who chose that moment to arrive.

“Alright, you fuckers, what’s going on here? What’s with the surprise inspection?” he said loudly, causing Clara to jump slightly. Clara looked at Malcolm once more, sadness seeping into her eyes.

“I think I’ll go back to Downing Street and sort out these papers, unless you need me here, which is doubtful.” Clara said slightly bitterly, looking away Malcolm. Jamie came to stand beside Malcolm.

“Don’t worry Clara, we can manage here. You toddle back to the car and go organise something” Jamie said flippantly, and Clara smiled sadly and pushed past Malcolm, breaking into a run as she left the building. 

Malcolm watched Clara running away from him, moving as if to follow her, his stomach dropping at the look that had been on her face. She looked crushed, and he was desperate to follow her, to tell her he hadn’t kissed that cunt of a receptionist, that she’d spotted Clara coming round the corner and had pulled him in, kissing him sloppily. He was disgusted. Jamie grabbed his arm as he began to move towards the door.

“What the fuck mate, come on, we have an inspection to do. Leave the fucking chit. We have work to do.” Jamie said, confused at his behaviour. Malcolm spun to face him, a piercing glare hitting him.

“You better be very careful what you call her. Treat her as you would treat me, as you would treat the fucking PM, ok? She might be new, but she’s my… assistant.” Malcolm caught himself before he said too much, before spinning round to glare at the receptionist, who was looking at him smugly.

“I don’t know why you felt you had to be hurtful to that girl, but you messed with the wrong fucking person, you fucking cunt. You will not work in politics again after today, I promise you that.” Malcolm spat, the girl looking at him in realisation and fear, before spinning around again and storming up the stairs, trying to think of how to make it up to Clara without being too obvious. He’d seen the tears in her eyes and it cut to his soul to know that those tears were because of him. He breathed out heavily, running his hands over his face before squaring his shoulders and storming into the DoSAC offices. They would get a fucking bollocking today.


	9. Chapter 9

Clara was sat at her desk typing furiously when Malcolm got back from a fucking tedious morning at DoSAC. He was so sick of all the fucking whinging and bragging and to come back and find Clara working, despite what had happened earlier, made him feel even worse. He could see her forcing herself not to acknowledge him, staring stoically at the computer screen until he’d passed, her face looking drawn and tired. He so desperately wanted to speak to her, to tell her it hadn’t happened like she’d seen it, to reassure her that she was the only woman who’d caught his eye recently. But he didn’t, instead storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Clara flinched as he slammed the door to his office, preparing herself for what was next. She heard Malcolm shouting when he realised that his office wasn’t empty, wrenching the door open again and storming to her desk. She gulped quietly before raising her eyes to look at him.

Malcolm faltered slightly at the look of vulnerability in Clara’s doe eyes as she looked up at him, the fucking galaxies swirling at him. Fuck he needed a coffee. He felt like he was going mad. But somehow he knew a coffee wouldn’t stop the way he always seemed to feel around this woman. He averted his eyes slightly before remembering the cunt in his office.

“Why the fuck is Julius fucking Nicholson in my fucking office Oswald. If I’m not there, no one else goes in. Is that so fucking hard to understand?! Christ, you’re useless” his said, his voice raising as he felt anger overtake him. How dare this fucking… girl… make him feel like this? How dare she make him fucking weak after a fucking week of working   
together? He wasn’t weak, he was Malcolm fucking Tucker, demon of Downing Street, not some fucking softie like some of the other politicians.

He turned away from her sharply, walking back to his office door.

“Get the fuck out Nicholson! If you want to talk, schedule a fucking meeting. I’m sure even my PA could sort that out, useless as she is” he bit at her over his shoulder “We’re not friends Nicholson, I don’t want to talk to your fucking baldship unless it’s absolutely fucking necessary” before beginning to force Nicholson out of his office, past Clara’s desk and towards the canteen. “Go make yourself a fucking cappuccino or whatever fucking drink you have, and don’t come back!” 

Malcolm turned back to return to whatever shit storm he had to clear up next, but the sight at the corner of his eyes made him stop. Clara was still sat at her desk working, but her eyes seemed to have inflated and as he watched, a single tear escape from the corner and roll quickly down her face, dropping from her cheek to her hand, where it dissolved into her skin. His eyes flicked back to her face, and her breathing seemed to be quicker and more ragged, her lower lip trembling slightly, though when she realised this, she caught it between her teeth, causing him to stifle a groan. He knew what she could do with that mouth and Christ, he hoped he hadn’t fucked it up too badly. There was a strange ache in his chest as he watched her quietly, her unawareness of him watching allowing him the view he longed for. He swallowed away the lump in his throat as he looked at her, before approaching her slowly.

“Oswa- Clara… Come with me… Please” he stuttered quietly, holding out a hand for her. She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes still full of tears, another one escaping the corner of her eye. Malcolm clenched his fist behind his back as he forced himself not to reach out and wipe the tear from her cheek. Clara looked at his hand in confusion, and it twitched slightly as he began to withdraw it, berating himself for his moment of weakness. Before he could withdraw it completely, she placed her hand gently in his, intertwining her fingers with his as she stood up, avoiding his eyes as a blush covered her cheeks. He held her hand in his and pulled her towards his office. He heard her inhale a stuttered breath as they approached the door and he turned his head slightly to look at her. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, smiling shyly before biting her lip again. Malcolm groaned inwardly; that fucking lip was going to be the death of him.

He closed the door behind them, still holding onto her hand, before turning to face her again. She looked up at him questioningly, letting him think before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Clara, about what happened at DoSAC. I didn’t mean for it to happen and trust me, she’s lost her fucking job for it…” he trailed off, sighing before saying “Sam told me you might be interested in me but just tell me if you aren’t. It’ll save a whole lot of fucking embarrassment for everyone.” He looked down at their joined hands, trying to convince himself he wouldn’t mind if she rejected him, that he wouldn’t be completely destroyed about it, that he could just carry on working with her every day. Just as he’d convinced himself he could, he felt her gasp slightly.

“You idiot, of course I do” she said softly, her voice cracking slightly as she moved to look into his eyes. He just had time to see her smiling widely before he moved forward, capturing her lips roughly with his, watching as her eyes closed in bliss. She smiled into the kiss and moved her hands to grasp the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer to her. He placed one hand on her hip, pulling her towards him, and the other cupping her cheek gently. 

He let his eyes fall shut as he heard her moan softly into the kiss, trying to press closer to him. He chuckled slightly as she tried to open his mouth with her tongue; tried to take control of the situation. She shuddered slightly at the sound, leaning forwards into him, causing him to take a step backwards, pulling her with him. He walked backwards slowly towards his desk, pushing the chair out of the way facing her back to the desk, before leaning forwards slightly to pick her up. Fuck, she was tiny. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved forward to sit her on his desk, breaking the kiss for a few seconds to look down at her. He cheeks were stained pink as she breathed short quick gasps of air, looking up at him with her doe eyes like liquid galaxies.

Getting impatient, Clara tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him forward between her legs before reaching up to his suit jacket again. She pulled him down and he attacked her lips again, feeling her melt against him again. She could feel him stood between her legs and she gasped slightly as she felt him press against her insistently. He drew back, looking apologetic and unsure at her response. 

She looked at him and narrowed her eyes slightly.

“If you fucking dare pull away now I’ll quit. You can’t mess with me like this Malcolm, you have to make your mind up. Please.” She said, her voice low and angry, though he heard a slight quiver as she tried to hold herself together. 

Malcolm looked down at her before moving away slightly, running a hand over his face. He heard Clara exhale sharply as he stepped away, her eyes seeming to fucking inflate when she thought he was pulling away fully.

“Clara… Clara, Clara, Clara… You have to understand. This can’t be public. If the newspapers find out, they’ll rip you to fucking shreds. You won’t be able to leave your fucking house. You certainly won’t be able to work here anymore. I don’t see how this can happen. It’s much safer for you to leave, to find some twat of a cunt your own age. Go have a houseful of babies and stay away from this hellhole.” Malcolm turned away, his eyes stinging as he moved to the window to give her time to leave.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned slightly, looking down at her over his shoulder. Her fucking galaxy eyes were still inflated, with a few tears trickling down her cheeks. She looked up at him, sniffing slightly.

“I don’t want a young man, Malcolm, I want you.” She trailed off, ending in a whisper, looking down quickly before raising her eyes to his again “Besides, I know what Sam told you, and you’re not that old.” She laughed nervously, punching Malcolm lightly on the arm. That was all he needed.

His control seemed to snap suddenly and he pulled her up tight against him, crushing his lips to hers again. They seemed to fit perfectly together, moulding together as he drank from her lips. She gasped lightly between kisses, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, which was fluffier than it looked. She felt a tear run down her cheek in happiness, and Malcolm moved quickly to kiss it away, before continuing to kiss down her face, before nipping lightly on her neck. 

Her head fell to one side and she gasped in pleasure as Malcolm kissed her neck, biting lightly on her pulse points. She still had her hands in his hair, holding him in place against her neck, while he walked them back to his desk, lifting her back onto its surface, before latching back onto her neck. Clara pulled him forwards, winding her legs around his hips again and pressing up against him, being rewarded with a moan from Malcolm as he pressed against her and bit down on her neck.

“Jesus Christ you two, didn’t take you long did it?” came a voice from the door. Malcolm jumped away from Clara as if burnt and spun to the door, only to see Sam leant against the doorframe, with the door closed behind her to keep out prying eyes. Clara lay back on the desk in relief, still breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed pink, and Malcolm blushed slightly as he saw her lying there, as if waiting for him. 

“Malcolm, you may want to calm down slightly before you go home, you seem to have a slight… errr… issue.” Sam said, raising one eyebrow as she looked pointedly at his crotch. Malcolm turned away from her, adjusting himself, his cheeks burning as he turned around again.

“And Clara, love, you’ll need to find a scarf somewhere, or a collared coat. Malcolm seems to have left a few marks in very obvious places. So much for being subtle.” She shrugged, laughing to herself as she turned to leave again. “Oh and I made a point to cancel your appointments for the rest of the day. Go, take a drive, get something to eat, get to know each other, but keep it hush. The media can’t know or you’ll be trying to clear up your own shitstorm. Anyway, I’ll see you both around.” She said, smiling at them affectionately before taking her coat off the stand and opening the door, closing it quietly behind her. 

Malcolm looked at Clara, who was still sat on his desk with her legs open, breathing almost normally again, before letting out a bark of laughter and sitting heavily on the sofa against the wall, looking over at Clara with a grin, which she returned smugly, reaching up to place a hand on her neck over the marks he had made. She hopped off the desk, walking daintily over to the sofa and lifting one of his arms to place over her shoulders as she sat, curled up next to him, and placed her head against his chest, sighing contentedly.

Malcolm looked down at Clara snuggled into his side and smirked, resting his hand momentarily on her hip before slapping her arse lightly and standing , watching in amusement as she overbalanced and fell off the sofa. He laughed roughly as she gave him a death glare and stood over her as she sat on her arse on the floor. He saw a glint in her eye as she stood slowly, running her shoulder then her arms along the front of his trousers as she stood. He groaned as she cupped him gently, leaning herself against his chest and squeezing slightly. He rolled his head back and she kissed his neck, scraping her teeth along his jawline before stepping back suddenly.

“Well then, what are we doing now?” she said brightly, smiling innocently at him. He looked down at her smiling up at him and frowned mockingly.

“Well, sunshine, why would we be doing anything differently? I’m sure there’s some shitstorm we could nip in the fucking bud.” Malcolm said sternly, his lips quirking slightly as he held back a smile.

“Don’t fucking call me Sunshine, you dick. I’m not a fucking dog!” Clara scowled, taking the bait he’d set, before a grin overcame her face. She leaned forward to grab his hand, pulling him towards the door, grabbing their coats from the coat stand as she passed it. 

“Come on you old grump, you’re driving.” She said cheerfully. Malcolm rolled his eyes teasingly as she pulled him towards the door, pulling his hand out his hers as the door opened to maintain some semblance of professionalism, winking at her as they left the room. Fuck, she was beautiful when she blushed.


End file.
